Peace & Love
by Sixty Five Roses
Summary: The story of Sharon's past as a flower child and anti-war activist is still inked on her body.


**A/N: **_This story was written as a response to a request that was made on Tumblr following the "little Raydor things" tag. The request was to write a fic where Sharon is a "hippie 70's child" and she gets a tattoo of the Peace & Love symbol._

* * *

**Chicago, 1972**

Her knuckles were white from gripping the red plastic-leather covering of the bed, her teeth bit her bottom lip and tears gathered in her eyes. She did not expect it to be so painful. It looked quite harmless when she saw it done for the first time. The steady buzzing sound was constant in her ears, almost comforting, but at the same time annoying.

"Are you okay there, lassie?" the man who was sitting behind her moved the buzzing machine for a moment. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice hoarse.

"The first time is always the worst," he said. "But it's gonna be worth it; you'll see," he encouraged her. He was a tall man, broad shouldered, a dark unkempt mane on his head, but his facial features were gentle. "Take a moment and then we'll continue." 16 years old Sharon Clarke nodded slowly, her fingers left the squeaky covering of the bed. Moving was a little painful, therefore she just took a deep breath and turned her head to look at the man. She wished she knew his name; it would make the entire experience much easier for her and him more relatable. She wanted to ask, but she was too shy about it. "You ready?" he asked. She nodded slowly and leaned her head down, her forehead touching the bed and she closed her eyes, relaxing her body as he instructed her. He turned the machine again and the buzzing resumed. She hissed in pain as the needle touched her skin again; it irritated and stung and once again tears welled in her eyes. She took measured breaths, a small sob escaping from between her lips every few moments.

As she promised herself to never ever do this again, the buzzing of the machine seized and she felt the sting on her lower back becoming even and a bit less painful.

"We're done," he said and it took her a moment to lift her head from the bed and wipe her wet cheeks.

"How does it look?" she asked, her voice barely there. She was lying on her stomach, her skirt was pulled down to the middle of her buttocks and her shirt was lifted up to the middle of her back to expose her lower back. It was an awkward position for her and the first time she removed her clothes, even partially, in front of a man; a man who was a stranger to her.

"At the moment, it's a little red and irritated, but give it some time and it will look just fine," the man reassured her. "But if you want to see…" he took her hand and helped her off the bed. Her skirt slid all the way down and she bent to pull it back up, holding it unzipped at her waist. He led her to a back room, where a body-length mirror was leaning against the wall. She turned around and lifted the ends to her shirt while glancing back at her reflection. The skin on her lower back was angry red around the new tattoo. She smiled and touched it gently, feeling the sting as her fingers touched it. "What do you think, lassie? Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she replied, her eyes becoming wet again, this time not from pain but from the surge of emotions that came over her. And it was a perfect tattoo in her eyes; it was a simple black peace symbol and it was not too big neither too small; it was just right. She pulled her skirt further up and zipped it, feeling a little relieved that she was no longer half naked. Then she paid him and left, feeling the weak sting of her skin when it rubbed against the material of her skirt.

The outside seemed different than it was when she came into the tattoo parlor, even though nothing has changed. She felt a little excited swirl in the pit of stomach, the kind of happiness that came from doing something that was not allowed and yet so pleasing. Still engulfed in this feeling, she walked to the bus station and took the bus home.

* * *

**Los Angeles, 1975**

His lips devoured hers with passion as his fingers worked quickly to unlace the knot on the front of her shirt. She flinched and at the same time felt an excited shiver going through her spine. She's only done it once before, with a guy she met in a party, but back then she was a little bit stoned and completely desperate to finally experience peace and love in the most carnal way. Now she was older and wiser, and she's been seeing this lovely medicine student for six months already and it surprised her that all they did until that point was kissing. However, tonight things certainly seemed to be progressing beyond that. They were standing in his bedroom and by the way he kissed her and fondled her through the thin material of her shirt, she knew that the evening will end in bed.

His lips descended to her neck, the sudden movement making her breath hitch. His tongue was warm against the gentle skin of her neck, expertly sucking on her pulse point. A sensual gasp escaped from the depths of her throat and it seemed to turn him on, because he latched onto that spot on her neck and sucked it with fervor. His lips would leave a bruise, she knew, but if he was half as good in bed as he was at kissing, it would be worth it. She felt his fingers sliding under her shirt and lifting it up, then pulling it over her head and throwing it on the floor behind her. Her skirt soon followed, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Now she stood in front of him in her tiny underwear: white plain cotton panties that barely covered her behind and were low cut and a simple white bra. She could feel the way his eyes scanned her top to bottom, his gaze almost too invasive. Under his scrutinizing eyes, she felt a little pang of Catholic shame in her stomach and the simple golden cross pendant she wore on a necklace around her neck left a burning sensation on the skin of the small gap between her clavicles.

"You are so beautiful," he growled. The heat that crept to her cheeks made her realize that she was blushing and she simply took a seat on his bed and waited for him to join her there. He followed her as soon as her buttocks touched the mattress and started unbuttoning his own shirt, managing out of his clothes within less than a minute. He sat next to her, completely nude and his hand crept up her back, unclasping her bra. She let it drop and removed her panties on her own, crawling up the bed and leaning against the pillows.

He soon settled between her legs, his lips back on hers and his hands exploring her body, a little too roughly. He brought her hand to his groin and she rubbed it for a little bit over a minute before he became hard. He grabbed her wrist, moving her hand, as he pushed her down against the pillows, pinning her down to the mattress. She shivered under him and he broke the kiss.

"Is this your first time?" he inquired. She was not surprised he didn't know. They haven't discussed it before.

"No," she replied, her voice breathy.

"Are you sure?" he asked. For a moment, she thought he might prefer it if she said yes. He looked like he wished to be her first. She contemplated lying about it, but then she nodded her head. The look on his face was slightly disappointed, but not enough to make her want him any less. He shrugged and thrust into her with force that she did not expect, extracting a surprised moan from between her lips.

The act quickly became a one man's show. He was eager to please himself and his thrusts became a little painful, but before she was able to utter a single word, he collapsed on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck. His skin was sweaty, but hers was completely cool to the touch and really, why would she feel warm when she hadn't even had the chance of getting it on with him? They laid there for a while, as the realization suddenly struck her that this was **his **first time; she felt tears rising in her eyes. He should have told her, seeing as she was honest with him about her sexual experience.

He rolled off her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. "You were great, Sharon," he whispered excitedly. Stifling a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the side of his chest, trying to draw some much needed comfort from the warmth of his skin. He buried his fingers in her hair, seeming to notice her change of mood. "Did you enjoy?" he asked and she buried her face in his chest, so he won't see the terrified expression that spread across her face. She didn't want to lie about it, but given the fact that she has just taken his virginity, she didn't have the heart to tell him it was horrible and boring and way too short for her to be even close to enjoying herself. She could not bring herself to ruin his self confidence. She let out a soft, meaningless hum and placed a kiss on his chest before rolling on her stomach and pulling the pillow under her head; this evening started out so promising and ended up so disappointing and sleeping seemed to be the only dignified way to end it without hurting the guy's feelings. Her eyelids fluttered open and shut a few times, sleep slowly coming over her when she heard his voice.

"What is this on your back?" he sounded distressed.

"It's a tattoo, Aaron," she replied, wrapping her arm around the pillow.

"I can see that, but why do you have a tattoo?"

"I got it three years ago; I thought it was cute," she replied, slightly annoyed.

"Why didn't you mention it before we… you know?" Aaron asked, his voice angry.

"Maybe for the same reason you didn't mention…" she stopped herself before the words came out. "I don't know. I didn't think it was important. Why does it even matter?" she turned around to face him, covering herself with his blanket.

"Because it's disgusting and I wouldn't have slept with you had I known you had such an..." Sharon could not believe her ears. Her tattoo was a symbol of love and unity, and why it brought such a hateful comment out of the man who clearly just lost his virginity with her was beyond her.

"Well, I happen to like it," she said and put on a brave face. It was clear to her that the evening was unsalvageable.

"You have to leave," he said and left the bed, gathering her clothes from the floor; he threw them in a heap on the bed in front of her. "Dress up and get out of here," he said angrily. She looked at him, a little awe stricken as his face became red with fury. "What, are you deaf? Get dressed and leave!" Shaking, she dressed up, feeling her own rage rising inside her, boiling in her chest, about to explode.

"I can't believe I wasted six months of my life with an idiot like you," she said as she grabbed her purse and left his room. "And you're the worst lover I've ever been with," she called out, not caring whether her words were painful or not or about the fact that she herself was somewhat inexperienced in the bedroom. She stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind her.

She walked to her car, trying to compose herself, but as soon as she turned the keys in the ignition, her tears started falling and she moved her foot of the gas pedal and changed the gear to parking mode before leaning her head against the steering wheel, sobbing bitterly.

* * *

**Los Angeles, 2013**

His lips pressed against her bare shoulder and his arm crept around her thin waist – what a way to wake up, she thought as she slid her foot up and down the calf of his leg. He purred into her skin, like a dog whose been scratched between the ears. Her lips curved in a smile and she felt his arm tighten around her and pulling her closer. She would never peg Andy Flynn as a snuggler, but as she found out last night, after they had the most delicious sex she's had in over a decade, he wrapped his arms around her and wouldn't let her go until they both fell asleep.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"I had the most beautiful dream ever," he replied, his mouth still against her skin. "You were in it, and then I woke up to find out that reality is far better than any dream," he replied, his tone lazy. His words melted her heart and she was happy he didn't say anything more, because it would have made her burst into tears of joy, which would be an extremely emotional and embarrassing thing to watch. Instead, he kissed her shoulder again and then pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and followed with a string of soft kisses down her spine, humming against her skin, making a warm wave spread inside her body. "What have we here?" He moved the sheet that covered the lower half of her body. She felt his fingers tracing a spot on her lower back; it was a spot that usually elicited unwarranted responses from men. Even her husband, who was perfectly okay with the tattoo when he saw it for the first time, suggested that she gets it removed at a certain stage of their marriage. She closed her eyes, pressing them shut as hard as she could, bracing herself for an unpleasant comment or worse. "I can't believe you have a tattoo," Andy's voice was astonished.

"It's old," she replied dryly.

"You, of all people… Wow, Sharon, you are full of surprises," he called out excitedly. His fingers caressed the tattoo. "So… how long ago did you get it?"

"I was 16," Sharon replied. "And I was a hippie who participated in anti-war protests and rallies."

"No way," Andy replied.

"Way; I have photos to prove it," Sharon grinned and turned on her back.

"And getting a tattoo was part of that?"

"Well, peace and love was important to me. It was a principle I believed in so strongly that I thought it was worth to carry on me forever," she explained.

"Did it hurt?" Andy propped himself on his elbow, leaning his chin on her stomach and looking into her eyes.

"Like hell, and it cost me all my savings."

"That's kind of a cute story, Sharon; I can see you as a flower child," the smirk on his face was softer than usual, as if he found this little bit about Sharon's past engaging. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and Sharon felt her cheeks warming up.

"What?" she finally broke, a smile playing on her lips.

"Well, I was just thinking," Andy paused for a moment, always good at creating suspense. "What your current opinion about peace and love is..." Sharon could easily detect the mischievous spark that appeared in his eyes. She pursed her lips together and gave him the sultriest gaze she could muster.

"Come on here and I'll show you."

THE END


End file.
